“One more question,” Tullen said. He turned to Ven. “This is a big project. Are you really willing to help with it?”
Ven spoke so quietly, they all had to be perfectly still to hear him. “Yes. I am.”
“I told them I’ll stay with them while they work each day,” Reba said. “For company.”
Everyone involved, even Ven, was eager to keep working. The other Golds watched for an hour as Narre extended the walkway. Every so often, she encountered resistance, and she had to make adjustments until her magic worked again. At one point, she had to make the ceiling so low, they’d all be required to crawl for several feet. But they assumed the resistance was for their protection, or perhaps for the mountain’s protection, and they didn’t complain too much.
When Narre was done, Tavi headed toward her to tell her how proud she was. But Sall was already there, telling Narre the same thing and sealing his words with a kiss.
Tavi sighed and began the walk back to the monastery. Tullen was ahead of her, and when her footsteps sounded, he turned his head. He gave her a smile but didn’t wait for her.
That afternoon, Tavi knocked on Tess’ bedroom door.
“Come in,” Tess called.
Tavi entered to find Tess sitting at a little desk, looking out the window.
“Am I interrupting anything important?” Tavi asked.
Tess smiled. “Every moment is important, including the moment when you walk into my room.” She turned her chair around to face Tavi and gestured to her bed. “Have a seat.”
Tavi sat on the bed. “I’ve loved being at the monastery with you,” she said.
“Uh oh.”
“What?”
“It sounds like you’re saying goodbye.” Tess gestured out the window. “Not for another couple of months, though, right?”
With a sad smile, Tavi said, “We’ve found a way to leave sooner.” She explained Narre’s plan and why it was so important to get to Savala.
Tess sighed. “How soon?”
“I’m not sure. At least another week or two.”
Tess stood and beckoned Tavi over. Tavi came to her, and they gave each other a tight hug. “I’ve loved having you here,” Tess said. “My non-sister.”
Tavi laughed. “You’ll always be my sister, no matter what those other monks say.”
“I agree.”
They both sat again.
“What were you doing?” Tavi asked. “Just sitting there looking out the window? Praying or something?”
“I suppose it was a prayer of sorts.” Tess turned in her seat and picked up a sheet of paper from her desk. “I was doing this.”
She handed the paper to Tavi. It was a pencil drawing of the scene outside Tess’ window. Tavi examined it, smiling at the little cottages she’d walked by earlier that day and marveling at the mountain itself, craggy and majestic.
“Tess, this is really good! When did you learn to draw?”
“I’ve always liked drawing. At home, I kept it a secret, just like my singing. The other monks have taught me to share the gifts Sava’s given me.”
“And it’s a form of prayer?”
“To me it is.” Tess smiled. “Do you want to try?”
Tavi had never been much of an artist, but she stood and stepped to the desk.
“Here,” Tess said, standing and turning the chair back around. “Sit. Don’t worry about it being good; just draw.”
Tavi picked up the pencil and began sketching on a clean sheet of paper. The room was silent and peaceful. A few minutes later she stopped, gazed at the page with an objective eye, and laughed. “I’m glad I don’t consider drawing to be prayer, because I don’t think Sava would be impressed! Here, I think you should be the one at the drawing desk.” She stood and left the paper on the desk.
“Oh!” Tess said when she’d sat down and looked at the drawing. “It’s very nice. It looks just like that red bird that used to visit our house.”
“It’s not a bird,” Tavi said. “It’s a tree.”
“Oh!” Tess said again. She took the page and looked at it more closely, confusion wrinkling her entire face.
Tavi laughed, pointing. “That’s the leaves, and that’s the trunk.”
“Of course. I’m sorry, I thought the trunk was the bird’s legs. It’s a very unique drawing, Tavi.” Tess continued to gaze at the picture. The corners of her mouth twitched, and she finally said, “Tavi, that’s the funniest-looking tree I’ve ever seen.” She gave in and laughed hard.
Tavi lay back on Tess’ bed, letting her own laughter relax her whole body. When they’d both stopped giggling, she said, “I’ve always wondered how you could spend hours praying in here. I didn’t know you were drawing.”
“Drawing, singing, reading, sometimes just sitting,” Tess said. “They’re all acts of faith.”
Tavi didn’t sit up or even look at Tess. “I admire that faith,” she said. “I’m not sure I share it.”
Tess didn’t answer immediately, but when she did speak, her voice was full of compassion. “Losing Misty was terrible for you, wasn’t it?”
Welcoming the tears that filled her eyes, Tavi said, “Yes. But I think perhaps I’d be asking these questions even if she hadn’t died. I wish I could believe like you do, Tess. I don’t know how it’s so easy for you. Sava is the father of magic, right? I use magic all the time, and it’s still hard for me to feel him. How do you know he’s there when you don’t even experience magic?”
“Oh, Tavi.”
Tavi glanced over at her sister, afraid she’d find condemnation there. But instead, Tess’ face wore a familiar expression of gentle contemplation. She was facing the window again, her gaze far away. Tavi turned her eyes back to the ceiling.
At last Tess spoke. “Tavi, the magic that shines from hands and feet and eyes and ears . . . it’s just a reflection of the magic all around us, the magic that’s been there since before the First Midwife ever gave a blessing breath. It’s the magic of changing leaves. Of soft snow and hard ice. Of moving stars. And more than that, it’s the magic of birth and learning and sacrifice. It’s the magic of creation. It’s the magic of love. And Sava is the father of it all.”
Tavi turned onto her belly and propped herself up on her elbows to face Tess. She found her sister watching her with tears in her eyes. “You may not see Sava,” Tess said, “but I see Sava in you. All the time.”
“But what if you’re wrong?” Tavi pressed.
Tess looked out the window for a minute or two, then turned back to her sister. “I don’t think life comes with many guarantees. I see Sava everywhere, but not with my physical eyes. Maybe I am wrong. Faith is a risk. To me, it’s a risk worth taking.”
Risk. Tavi was so sick of that word. She knew plenty of people who lived their whole lives in safety, who never took risks. They weren’t trying to change the world or have deep faith or fall madly in love. It must be so nice to live that way, knowing everything in your life was fine.
Maybe there wasn’t a risk-free way to fight the Grays. However, she’d proven that taking time to plan was worthwhile; now they were headed to Savala with an actual goal in mind. It felt good to be moving forward in the safest way possible. So wouldn’t it be nice for some other parts of her life to remain safe, risk-free? To be just fine?
She was crying again, and she wasn’t sure why. She stood, faced Tess, and said, “Thank you for the talk.”
“Here.” Tess held out the picture she’d been drawing when Tavi had arrived. She’d added a title to the bottom of it: Magic.
Chapter Twenty
Father is still furious he wasn’t given the title of duke. I can’t tell if Mother is upset; she spends all her time attempting to calm Father.
Last week, Duke Allori stopped by, all smiles, to command us to double the taxes we’ve been paying. I think it took all Father’s self-control not to yank the duke’s silk tie off his neck and strangle him with it.
- Mika Stag to Erti Stag, from Year One: Corresponden
ce in the Corminian Kingdom
Camalyn had just dozed off on the couch when her husband’s voice startled her awake.
“Holliman!” Relin called.
The black-liveried butler entered the sitting room and bowed from the waist. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Send the cook in here.”
“Right away, Your Majesty.”
“What do you need?” Camalyn asked.
“Just a snack. You want one?”
“I’m still full from dinner.”
“You hardly ate!”
She placed her hand on her middle. “I can’t even think about food. The midwives said this nausea would be gone by now!”
Relin approached and knelt by the couch. He lifted his hand toward Camalyn’s belly but stopped short. “Can I?”
Camalyn smiled. “Sure.”
His hand, gentle and warm, cradled the swell of her abdomen. He smiled in wonder, as he always did. “Is it moving?”
She moved his hand further down, and a moment later, the child responded. Relin laughed.
“Your Majesty?”
Relin leapt to his feet and strode to the cook, who quickly bowed. “I’d really love some pudding,” Relin said.
“Oh . . . sir . . . Your Majesty,” the cook fumbled, “I could have some for you tomorrow. It takes time, you see. Has to chill. I’m terribly sorry, I—”
“Oh, that’s right!” Relin smiled and patted the pretty cook on the shoulder, which just seemed to disconcert her more. “Chilled. You’ve told me that before, haven’t you?”
“Uh, yes. Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Well then, some pastries will be fine!”
“Well, those take time too. I could have them to you in . . . two or three hours?”
“Oh, no, I’m hungry now. Cookies?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, we always have cookies available for you.”
Camalyn listened to the conversation with her eyes closed, fiddling with the wedding bracelet around her wrist. She was trying to be patient. She’d married a man who was sweeter than she’d expected. He was also stupider. She wondered if any of her exasperation had to do with her pregnancy; she found she was more easily annoyed than usual. But she was pretty sure if the people of Cormina knew what their king was really like, without Konner’s brains behind him, they’d revolt.
“You sure you don’t want anything, dear?” Relin asked.
“Perhaps some candied ginger,” Camalyn said.
“Very well, Your Majesties,” the cook said before fleeing the room.
Men’s voices reached Camalyn’s ears, coming from just outside the sitting room. “Is that Konner?” she asked.
Relin’s brow furrowed. “I think so. Don’t worry; I told Holliman not to let anyone in.”
Camalyn nodded and released a long sigh, trying to breathe out the frustrations of the day. They’d spent a terribly long time listening to idiots at the temporary palace. When they’d finally wrapped up, she and Relin had ridden to their private residence, hoping to get away from things for the rest of the evening.
Her hope for a break was short-lived. The door swung open, and Konner marched in. At the doorway, Holliman, aghast, said, “Your Majesties, my deepest apologies. I told him you were not to be disturbed.”
Camalyn sat upright, which took entirely too much energy. She snapped, “He doesn’t listen to anyone, Holliman.”
Konner held up a brass key. “You wouldn’t have given me this if it weren’t acceptable for me to visit when necessary.”
Camalyn and Relin exchanged a confused glance. Camalyn hadn’t given Konner a key, and unless Relin was more deceptive than she thought, he hadn’t either.
“Holliman,” Konner said, sitting in a chair close to the fire, “bring strong tea.”
Holliman looked to his king and queen, a question in his eyes.
“Tea would be nice,” Relin said. “With plenty of sugar.”
The butler nodded, exited, and closed the door.
Camalyn turned to Konner. She was too tired to be polite. “For Sava’s sake, tell me this is an emergency. We wanted an evening alone.”
“There is a topic we must discuss, and today’s schedule didn’t allow it,” Konner said.
“In other words, not an emergency.” Camalyn lay down again. Konner might intrude on her privacy, but she wouldn’t let him steal her comfort.
“Urgency and importance are vastly different. You both must learn this if you are to rule effectively.”
Relin pulled over a little table and propped his feet on it. “Absolutely,” he said. “Urgency and importance.”
Konner shot a disdainful look at Relin. “We need to talk about our army.”
“Are you ready to remove Talger?” Camalyn asked.
“That’s ridiculous.” Konner’s voice was bored.
“She’s running them into the ground. You’ve seen the reports. I don’t even think they have food to last the winter.”
Konner sat up straighter, which Camalyn hadn’t thought possible. She suppressed a smile as the muscles of his jaw jutted out from his face and his nostrils flared. But his response was calm and measured. “Talger is leading a growing army. She’s inspiring them with her magic. They are developing a drive and passion our nation hasn’t experienced in generations. Those soldiers don’t need a new leader. They need purpose.”
“That brings up a question I’ve been thinking about,” Relin said. “We’re spending a lot of our taxes on this army, right?”
“Yes, and it’s an excellent use of our funds,” Konner said.
“Sure, I know it is. But why are they there? I mean, they’ve been sitting in that Meadow place for, what, a month and a half? I know they’re training, but what are they training for?”
Konner’s brows rose, and his mouth curved into a small smile. “Very good question. And precisely what I came to discuss.”
Camalyn sat up. She had the feeling she’d need her full faculties for this conversation.
Konner pulled a thick, folded sheet of paper out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He unfolded it. “Bring that table over,” he said, pointing at the table Relin was using as a footrest. Relin obeyed, lowering his feet and scooting the table between the three of them. Konner laid the paper out; it was narrow but too long for the table.
“It’s a map,” Relin said.
Clearly. Camalyn bit back the sarcastic remark.
The map was labeled “Kingdom of Cormina.” It was new, then. An image of their long, narrow country covered most of the page, but portions of neighboring nations were drawn as well. On the far eastern side of Cormina, next to the ocean, was a large dot labeled “Savala.” A small palace was drawn there, resembling the royal residence that was currently being built. Camalyn huffed at the sight; the map would likely turn to dust before the palace was completed.
“You can see I’ve marked the Meadow,” Konner said, pointing to the western side of Cormina. “It’s an excellent location; it was wise for Talger to move there.”
Camalyn kept herself from mentioning that Talger had taken advantage of an opportunity, rather than plotting a brilliant scheme.
“It’s not close enough to any other countries to generate suspicion,” Konner said. He pointed at two of the nations on Cormina’s western border. “It is, however, within a few days’ march of either of these countries.”
Camalyn narrowed her eyes. “Why would the army march to one of those countries?”
Konner looked at her like she was a child. “They’re an army; it’s what they do. They march.”
“I know armies march. What will they do once they march there?”
Konner didn’t answer her. Instead, he turned to Relin. “Your Majesty,” he said, “what is the purpose of our kingdom?”
Relin’s answer was immediate. “To provide strength and prosperity for our citizens and to become a nation unlike any other, past or present.”
“Very good,” Konner said.
Relin smiled
proudly, and Camalyn wondered when Konner had taught him that little bit of propaganda.
“In less than a year of governing,” Konner said, “we’ve already become a place of strength and prosperity.”
“How do you figure that?” Camalyn asked.
Konner raised his eyebrows. “You receive visitors every day speaking to the truth of that. Just today, that lord . . . oh, I forgot his name . . . told us of the success of our mining ventures outside Savala.”
“Sure, and he’s become rich off it. So has Sella, who had a lot more to do with the success than the lord did. But what about the miners?”
Konner spread his arms wide. “What about them? They have stable jobs!”
Camalyn laughed. “They’re not exactly prosperous!”
“Camalyn, you grew up wealthy.” Konner’s voice took on that tone of condescension she hated. It worked though, giving her a strange sense of shame. “Prosperity to you is different than it is to someone who spends their days digging iron ore out of a mountain. Those people don’t need a hat to match each outfit or a carriage with cushioned seats. To them, prosperity is being able to give their children cake once a week. Being able to buy shoes for their eldest, so they can pass those same shoes on to the next. We’re providing prosperity—the kind you desire—to our nobles. And we’re providing prosperity—the kind commoners desire—to everyone else.”
“Commoners like your family?” Camalyn asked.
She knew the question was a success before the last word had exited her mouth. Konner’s eyes flared, and his breathing suddenly became audible. He probably wondered how she even knew his history. Fine, let him wonder. She didn’t get the upper hand in conversations with him very often.
“Let’s steer this discussion back on track, shall we?” Konner asked after a short recovery period. “Relin, can you please repeat the second half of our purpose?”
Facing the Fire Page 19
